


The Treehouse

by mellyb6



Series: And Then There Were Four [7]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, French Braids, Listening to Music, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, sex on the floor because beds are overrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: At Athos' country estate, Porthos and Aramis show Anne why the treehouse is so famous. And they give her a rather thorough demonstration.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the same day as the last chapter of the previous story.

The place is what dreams are made of. Anne believes she was quite spoiled when she was a child, that she had all the toys she desired, but this is taking things to another level entirely. The treehouse is far more fabulous than everyone described it.

 

Gigantic, probably designed by an actual architect. A wonder that is hardly ever used because Athos' nephews are too young to be left inside unsupervised. None of the adults seem keen on being stuck inside with the children either.

 

Anne can't quite see why. The ceiling is high enough to stand up completely. Neither Porthos nor Aramis have to crouch. The ladder to climb is rather steady. There's nice lighting inside. A TV and a couch and a fluffy rug which takes up most of the floor. Nice curtains on the windows and bells which chime whenever Aramis hits them gently.

 

Lots of cushions which make for a rather comfortable nest on the couch. With these and Porthos holding her close to his chest, Anne decides that it's the perfect way to conclude a great day. After a delicious picnic and toes dipped in the cool lake. After opting for escaping Porthos' friends for a few hours, just because the treehouse is sort of secluded and no one will come bother them here.

 

Anne's head against Porthos' shoulder, his arm across her chest while he sits and she is more or less lying down against him, feet dangling off the edge of the couch. Anne likes it in there. With Aramis lying on his stomach on the rug, flipping through the music on his phone to find new songs for their improvised blindtest.

 

It turns out that Anne is quite rubbish at it. Porthos is clearly winning. Finding singers and titles two seconds or so into the extract. Anne would be jealous if it wasn't for how excited and enthusiastic Porthos is to play. Aramis is grinning like a fool, too. Staring at his boyfriend's casual hand on Anne's stomach. The fingers always moving. Tracing little patterns on her blouse. So thin that it's another reason why Anne doesn't want to complain. It feels like Porthos is actually touching her skin and after the drama of the previous night, of their ridiculous fight in the car, it is too good of a situation to ruin it because she's hopeless at guessing artists.

 

Besides, the music is great. Aramis lets the songs play on for longer and longer after Porthos has answered correctly. The orange light coming from outside bathes him in sunlight and Porthos finds him extremely handsome.

 

As good-looking as Anne, squirming, changing positions so she's closer to him. Raising her head and her sweet smile and how could have they been figthing the day before when he feels so at ease with her? Porthos kisses her, perhaps surprises her but Anne won't complain about this either.

 

The new beat forces them apart and Anne is so startled that she draws back hastily.

 

“I know this one!” she exclaims, surprising even herself.

 

Aramis jerks his head up at the shriek and Porthos grits his teeth. Half of her glass of orange juice is now on his tee-shirt.

 

“Oh, shoot! Porthos, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

 

Anne scrambles to her feet, mortified, slightly worried that she has ruined the moment for good. Aramis also eyes his boyfriend carefully because he knows what prompted the others' fight: the spilled water on Porthos' lap in the car.

 

But Porthos takes a deep breath instead. It'd be lying to say he isn't annoyed. They're only clothes and hopefully neither the couch nor the cushions will be stained. It wasn't deliberate. It happens all the time everywhere in the world. There's no need to waste time arguing about what's been done. It won't prevent him from being uncomfortable yet Anne didn't do it on purpose. And she looks so anxious.

 

Porthos shakes his head, reaches to play with her French braid and kisses the corner of her mouth.

 

“It's fine. No worries.”

 

“We'll wash it back at the house,” she promises.

 

Aramis has sat cross-legged, his phone forgotten. The song still playing but to no use. Porthos smiles and all is forgiven -not that there was anything to forgive. And Anne can breathe again. Porthos isn't so short-tempered when there is no real issue clouding his judgement.

 

“If I didn't know you better, I'd say you did it just so I'd take my clothes off,” he jokes, winking. Taking his tee-shirt off in one swift move.

 

“That's something _I_ could do,” Aramis snorts, admiring the well-defined abs and the muscles flewing and Porthos in all of his half-naked glory.

 

The tee-shirt lands by the table with the games and the colorful toys.

 

“I'm very glad you did it, Anne, though,” Aramis adds, licking his lips and standing up to loom above his boyfriend. Their noses touch. Porthos rolls his eyes and then chuckles. “We kind of were interrupted this morning.”

 

“And I gathered that's why the treehouse was so infamous?”

 

Anne has pushed herself in a corner of the couch, having a perfect view of the men kissing. Now that she's sure there won't be any further tragedy because of her clumsiness today, she's eager to join in the tradition.

 

“Oh, I've never done anything else but fool around in here,” Aramis says, both of his hands flat on the back of the couch, on either side of Porthos. Trapping him. He leans as much as he can, tugging on a full lip, flashing some tongue when Porthos opens his mouth for a greedy kiss.

 

“I never heard you complaining.”

 

Porthos drags his hands over his boyfriend's shirt, lets them wander to his ass until they clutch Aramis' jeans and he more or less lands on Porthos' lap. Stumbling more like. Definitely trapping Porthos between the couch and his chest. Aramis moans in his boyfriend's mouth, squirming at the fingers grazing the stretch of skin above his pants. Porthos bites on Aramis' lips, sneaks a glance at Anne who is holding a cushion. Gripping it. Hypnotized like she always is to see them kiss and make out.

 

Porthos grins against Aramis, licks inside his mouth, fumbles with the buttons of his boyfriend's shirt. Aramis shudders at the fingertips gliding on his bare stomach. At the hot hands pushing the garment off. Lingering on his bare arms. Warming him up. He holds on to Porthos' hair, grinds a little against him and moans again.

 

It's a soft kiss, one which keeps on giving. Hardly ever stopping except for small nips at Porthos' neck. Licking and sucking. But always coming back to inviting lips. A captivating show and Anne very rarely blinks. Transfixed. Because it's slow and passionate. Terribly erotic. With Aramis' fingers brushing Porthos' temples. With Porthos' hands firm on Aramis' hips, kneading the skin.

 

Next time Aramis looks up at her, his head thrown back so that Porthos can kiss down his neck, there's that invitation in his eyes that Anne doesn't require anymore. She believes she'd be fine only watching. She's feeling quite hot already. But joining is always more fun.

 

And Aramis' lips are so wet when she shuffles to him. His shoulder is smooth against her palm, so is his chest when she struggles to find a comfortable position by their side.

 

It's a short path from Aramis' neck to Anne's and she sighs at the familiar and exciting scratch of Porthos' beard on her skin. She sighs around Aramis' tongue, lets Porthos grab the back of her neck and then down to the small of her back. There's fire coming out of his hand, surging through it to spread under her clothes and under her very skin. Anne shivers nonetheless.

 

She gasps and while she takes a long breath, Porthos steals their boyfriend's mouth for a moment. A couple of his fingers have dipped under the waistband of her shorts, though, and when he doesn't hear any complaint, he goes for more.

 

“Couch's too small,” Aramis mumbles after he's tried to accommodate Anne closer and almost slid off the furniture.

 

The rug looks much better. Like lying down on a pink cloud. The fabric as fluffy as feathers when he's taken his jeans off. Porthos does the same, watching Anne struggling with her top. And her shorts. But he adores the matching lingerie. He's never seen her wear mismatched underwear and bra and it's a sight.

 

Their girlfriend with her girlish French braids dangling over her shoulders. A sharp contrast from the bright red lace of her bra. A sharp contrast from her white complexion.

 

“You're pretty,” Aramis praises.

 

“You're sexy,” Porthos tops it. Never shying away from compliments anymore. Astounded that now, Anne is so at ease getting naked with them. That she doesn't need prompting or reassuring words to feel comfortable.

 

Aramis' hard-on is compelling, too, but so is her cute smile. How she delicately sinks to her knees without a sound and after only a short second, she goes for a kiss, linking her arms around Porthos' neck. Urging him to touch her. Aramis does as well. Roaming her back, playing with the strap of her bra. Kissing the spot between her shoulder blades. The one which makes her knee weaken.

 

Her nails dig into Porthos' flesh, from all the intensity she puts into her kisses. It offsets him a bit because her actions have been pretty much tamed in bed until now. This is different. This is enjoyable. His arms sneak around her waist. Blond hair uncurls as Aramis brushes the long locks out of the rubber bands. Anne sighs at the feeling. At his lips beneath her ear. She arches her back at his smooth hand everywhere on her back.

 

She grips Porthos' hair and then he falls onto his back, Anne still holding on, perched on top of him. He groans at the pressure on his hardening cock. At her squirming so her legs are out of the way, straddling him. Feeling totally at ease and kissing, again and again. Open-mouthed kisses and the way she sighs into Porthos' mouth whenever Aramis caresses a soft spot on her body.

 

“You're eager today,” Porthos remarks, all dark eyes set on her flushed cheeks. Her ragged breathing mere inches from his face.

 

Her eyes shine and she basks in how he grunts when she tentatively moves against him. She's seen Aramis do the same in the past. She's witnessed their bodies responding to one another. How much Porthos enjoyed having someone on top of him. Considering the men in bed has been the main thing on her mind for nights before drifting to sleep. And now that they are getting increasingly more comfortable, the three of them, Anne has been craving it.

 

“It's definitely not a reproach,” Porthos adds, resting his hands on her hips, fiddling with the red lace. Overwhelmed by the heat from her crotch and how Anne bites her lip when his cock brushes against her underwear.

 

Anne pushes her hair out of the way, loving how Aramis gathers it all for her. His hand lands on Porthos', holding on to her.

 

“I've been....thinking about you,” she confesses.

 

“Have you now?” Aramis whispers, nipping at her neck. She nods. “Do tell.”

 

But Anne only giggles, feeling a bit out of place putting everything into words. There's so much on her mind, things she happily reflects on in her privacy and even though they do include her gorgeous boyfriends, she's not comfortable enough to blurt it all out like Aramis would. Aramis would gladly spill all of his dirty thoughts, Anne knows that he does. And it gets her off as much as it does Porthos.

 

Instead of talking, she reaches for Porthos' mouth again. Gives him infinite kisses and basks in the growing erection she can feel between her legs, even through thin layers of fabric. His fingers brush back and forth in the small of her back, a little bit against her stomach and every touch makes her hotter.

 

“There's something I'd like to....try,” she finally hazards. Short of breath, letting Porthos lazily move her against his crotch. Aramis is playing with her bra, grazing the underside of her breasts, reaching up to palm one.

 

“Yes?” Porthos prompts, catching Aramis' expecting gaze close to her. Aramis looks so calm compared to the way Porthos' heart hammers in his chest.

 

“I want to....go down on you?”

 

Because Anne has seen Aramis do it and it looked marvelous. It made her wonder if she could like it, too. Besides, Porthos is so incredibly beautiful and she adores kissing him. She'll probably enjoy kissing him anywhere.

 

Porthos curses, grips her hips a little tighter in surprise. Definitely hard now. His cock strains in his underwear and his only response is a long moan. There's not enough pressure on his crotch anymore but he cannot tear his eyes way from Anne's unsure yet expectant face. Aramis claims her mouth, snaps her bra open quickly, always so talented and he swallows her little noises of appreciation.

 

One hand on her breast and the other in her hair, kissing her, Porthos lying beneath her, hissing any time she skirms because of Aramis' ministrations. Porthos' hand is on her ass until she decides that he doesn't need to reply with words for her to understand she can do whatever she wants. Anne is perfectly aware it was granted even before she expressed her wish anyway.

 

There's a certain hesitation in the way she kisses his neck. Or in how she looks up at him when she touches him through his underwear. Porthos can't help bucking his hips because she's so careful. So gentle. Too gentle and it hurts in the anticipation of the moment. Aramis' steady voice is a reassuring guidance and it's hot, too. To hear him talk about what Porthos likes, what Anne could do.

 

Her hand shakes a bit once Porthos is eventually naked. Not because she's afraid but because she's slightly moved by the entire situation. His cock comes alive when she very slowly grazes the length of it and he has to breathe through his mouth.  
  
He's thick and hot in her fist and she watches her fingers move alongside Porthos. She listens to his reactions and it fuels her confidence. Because he's almost begging her to do more. She follows Aramis' advice, tries to apply more pressure, moves her hand up and down faster and is rewarded by a sharp grunt and Porthos' hips jerking.

 

Anne licks her lips, puts them softly on the tip of Porthos' cock. So carefully that he'll wonder later, after the excitement and the sheer disbelief of what's happened, if it was her first blowjob ever. She'll tell him it wasn't but it was the first one she actually enjoyed, because Porthos was very clearly beyond himself with desire. She'll tell him that she may have been rusty, just like she is with everything involved in bedroom action.

 

To which Porthos will fiercely retort that she most definitely _wasn't_.

 

Because his entire body shudders when she uses her tongue to lick the length of his cock. She swirls it around the cockhead, encouraged by Aramis' patient hand caressing her hair. There's a new taste in her mouth but Porthos is everywhere at once and he seems so ardent. Grunting and fisting the beach towel he's lying on. Biting on his knuckles at the quick laps of Anne's tongue. How she sucks, first timidly then more and more happily.

 

And once she feels truly comfortable, that Porthos' cock is finally fully known to her, she feels invigorated. Fuelled by the pleasure she seems to be giving him.

 

Her mouth is wet around him, swallowing as much as she can. Choking once or twice but both Porthos and Aramis reach out to her to make sure that she's all right and she has no time to onverthink her foolish actions. She goes back for more instead. Kisses and licks. Swallowing less yet more thoroughly. Using her hand like Aramis suggests.

 

“You're good,” Porthos assures her when, after long minutes, she dares look up at him again. It's a rasp, husky and shaking. His chest heaves and it's taking all he has not to thrust into her mouth. Anne smiles, gives the cockhead a bold kiss which makes even _her_ dizzy.

 

“Is she?”

 

“Fuck, yeah.”

 

“She's got a good teacher.”

 

Aramis chuckles at his own joke, shifting to try to ignore the throbbing in his own cock at the spectacular vision he's being given. Porthos huffs out, moans. Anne shudders at the strong hand on her butt, resting there before Aramis pulls her underwear out of the way. Her moan echoes around Porthos' cock and they keep on coming.

 

New sensations. Anne mouthing at him, assaulted by renewed desire.

 

“Nah, she's just good.”

 

Porthos hisses once more, too caught up in everything to talk much more.

 

Anne smiles again, gasps at Aramis' hand back on her butt. So warm, so skilled. Never hesitating. Reaching between her legs. Rubbing. Half-lying that he is on top of her to nuzzle her neck. His teeth scratch her skin.

 

“You're....mmhh...so wet,” he mumbles.

 

He keeps on rubbing slowly yet with increasing pressure. Her moans echoe around Porthos' cock again and again. Aramis is a distraction but she won't tell him to stop.

 

His fingers circle her clit. He won't pause for a second. Slow and then fast and slow again and Anne can't focus on Porthos anymore. Her vison blurs behind her closed eyelids and she struggles for air at Aramis fingering her. His tongue trails along her collarbone as he does so.

 

Anne chokes a little, both because Porthos is getting too turned on by what his boyfriend and her are doing and he's forgotten to take it easy, but also because it feels like Aramis is going so deep inside of her that he might make her heart explode. Everything just feels _too_ intense.

 

She's fighting for breath, her cheek cushioned on Porthos' stomach until he shifts to get out of the way so that Aramis can spoon her and continue pleasuring her. Porthos is out of breath, too, and he won't let his cock so far away from her body even for a few minutes.

 

He catches her mouth, licks inside of it with a greedy tongue and Anne clutches his hair, won't let him escape either. She doesn't know if she is the one pulling him flush against her or if Porthos comes willingly to her.

 

Aramis' head is above hers and it's only a short stretch for Porthos to kiss his boyfriend. To nibble at his lip. To trap Anne between the two of them. And to never stop moving.

 

Anne's clit is so hard against Aramis' fingers and she's squirming against him. Because his erection is on her back and Aramis can't quite help the way his hips move. They're all too hot and he's going to come in his underwear and it's the least of his concerns. He just needs to get off. To get them off.

 

Porthos isn't still either. His chest rubs against Anne's breasts. Thudding and raw and powerful. And then he hooks one of her legs around his waist and it's the first time in forever there's such a large cock pressed against Anne's crotch without any clothing in between.

 

She moans, so loud and for so long and it only becomes faster and higher and she doesn't stop once Porthos grinds against her. Never quite pushing his cock inside of her but these sensations are already enough.

 

Anne scrambles to hold on to something. To avoid falling out of it all. Not that she could. With Aramis' mouth on her neck, his hand on her breast, his grunt and shaky movements when he comes. Before everyone else. He's watched too much to contain himself. With Porthos' mouth on hers, his beard against her cheek, his cock against her clit and feeling for himself that fantastic wetness Aramis was talking about earlier. With his hand firm on her hip, pulling her to him.

 

Porthos is so close to her, on so many incredible levels that he feels the tremors in his own body when Anne breaks the kiss and comes. Fighting to keep her head above the waves of pleasure crashing over her. That sweet pain that never recedes. Her nipple is hard between Aramis' fingers and Porthos' cock pulses on her and then he licks her neck, buries his head there, ruts against her one more time before coming on her and it feels almost magical.

 

Aramis will later tell his boyfriend that the analogy is cheesy. Then he'll quickly apologize after being threatened to be denied the warm snuggle Porthos is indulging in with Anne.

 

She's so satisfied and so beyond herself. Safe in strong arms, fingers tracing random patterns on her back. So in love, even though she's fully aware this has been magnified by sex. By care and gentleness and Porthos and Aramis being so open, so welcoming. So them.

 

Anne nevertheless adores them. This giddy feeling of glee. Of belonging. In a sweaty mess on the floor of a forever defiled sweet treehouse. In a relationship which completes and fulfills her so purely that it's in moments like this that she doesn't fear anything anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr ](http://i-own-loki.tumblr.com/)


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